


Common Ground

by vix_spes



Series: Fan Flashworks Challenges [65]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: Thorin is horrified to find that he and Thranduil have something in common.





	

Thorin swore loudly as he all but ran down the corridors of Erebor, trying to pull on both his formal robes and his crown at the same time. Of all the times for his nephews to pull something like this, it had to be now. He was supposed to be meeting with both the King of Mirkwood and the King of Dale to continue the discussions as to how the three kingdoms would proceed from here however, much to his disappointment and anger, he was running late. No doubt Thranduil would have plenty to say about his tardiness. The tree-shagger would probably be jumping for joy at being able to reproach Thorin for being late to a meeting that he was hosting.  
  
This never would have happened if Dís were here. In fact, it was precisely because Dís wasn’t here that his beloved nephews had tried this. Thorin might be the one that had the reputation for being a grumpy bastard but it was well-known amongst the Company that Thorin was a soft-touch when it came to his nephews while Dís was the true disciplinarian. Fíli and Kíli had picked this precise moment to spring this on him because they knew that he’d cave far quicker than their Amad. Of course, he had caved and it had backfired massively.  
  
Reaching the door of the meeting room, Thorin took a moment to compose himself and regulate his breathing as well as straighten his robes and crown. It was all in vain however, as Thranduil was on his usual form the second that Thorin stepped through the door.  
  
“Are those a few more streaks of grey that I’m seeing in your hair, King under the Mountain?”  
  
Thorin focused on his breathing, determined to fulfil his promise to Dís and not rise to Thranduil’s baiting but, even so, he couldn’t help the growl that escaped his lips. He managed to grind out a just about civil “Thranduil” accompanied by a nod before offering a far more genuine smile and handshake for the person sat next to the Elven King.  
  
“Bard.”  
  
“Thorin. You’re looking a little … harassed this morning. All is well within Erebor, I trust?”  
  
“Yes. You haven’t brought another fire-drake down on our heads, have you?”  
  
“Erebor is fine, you have nothing to concern yourselves about on that score.” Thorin hesitated before speaking again. Things between he and Thranduil were probably the best that they had ever been and they could probably be described as cordial, helped in the most part by Thranduil’s relationship with Bard who was nothing less than a saint in Thorin’s eyes, but they would never be close. Eventually, he took the decision to be honest. “My kingdom may be fine but my nephews? Not so much.”  
  
“They’re not ill? I thought that they were recovering well after the battle?”  
  
Thorin focused his attention on Bard. “No, they’re not ill and yes, they’ve recovered well. A little too scarred for my sister’s liking but well, given that they never should have seen battle in the first place. They’re just up to their usual mischief and with their Amad in the Iron Hills, they’re running rough-shod over the rest of us.”  
  
“I’m a father of three, Thorin. I have no doubt that my three have done the same as your two, if not worse. What have they been up to?”  
  
“They’ve been begging for a puppy for years; they saw one in one of the villages of man that I worked in years ago but we never felt that it was appropriate for them to have a pet. Now that we’re back in Erebor and everything is settled, they asked again and I found no reason to deny them. They announced last week that they’d found a puppy and I just assumed that it was one of the hunting dogs that Bifur has been training and looking after. They produced it this morning and it wasn’t a hunting dog, it was a warg. They’ve brought home a warg puppy, Mahal only knows where they found it, and they expect to keep it. I’ve never been able to say no to them but I can’t have a warg running around Erebor.”  
  
Thorin was expecting Thranduil to mock him and criticise him but  
  
“You think that’s bad? Legolas announced that he had a pet once; he’d found one of the baby spawn of Ungoliant’s that are found in Don Goldur and was keeping it in a box in his bedroom. The battles that I had with him to get rid of it.”  
  
Thorin shuddered at the thought of it. A baby warg was bad enough but a spawn of Ungoliant? Baby or not, he thought that maybe Thranduil had won this round. Then again, maybe that was the scarier thought; that it was possible for he and Thranduil to have common ground.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/275941.html) or on DW [here](https://vix-spes.dreamwidth.org/266994.html)


End file.
